One Safe Place
by Burn Our History
Summary: A short Nathan/Peyton friendship fic that takes place after Q's death. It includes references to Lucas/Peyton and Nathan/Haley/Jamie.


_We always come back to the places we know best._

The simple thought crossed Peyton's mind as she eased her car from gravel to grass, parking it in a familiar spot. Her intent in coming to this place had been partially clear, though nothing else seemed to be, and she was pleased to find Nathan staring down at her love letter decorating the River Court.

"My greatest canvas, by far," she said loudly, snapping his attention to her presence with the suggestion of melody in her voice.

It struck him as odd for her to sound that way. Even in her best moments, Peyton's voice retained the same dark, heavy tone; a note of sadness always fringed her words. Now of all times he could not fathom anyone being content. Nothing about days as long as those imposing themselves on Tree Hill could inspire such happiness. Q's death had been all consuming.

Even as she watched his gaze shift with surprise to her, she could not shroud herself in the same laden sadness that engulfed everyone else. Somehow, it seemed unfair to her. Quentin Fields had touched the lives of her friends, Nathan's especially, in the same way he had remained absent from hers. He had been a best friend to Nathan's son, a defender of his wife, and had showed Nathan a defiance that forced him to grow as a player and as a man.

The closest he had ever come to her was punching someone who had once been her client at a music showcase she had organized. She only knew of his life because she was told and she only knew of its loss because she saw it around her. Despite the great tragedy of the circumstance, the tears were not hers to cry.

Nathan moved away, towards the bleachers, as she approached. Not as a spurn but as a defense. His level of vulnerability was often directly proportionate to her proximity. When she was close, looking at him with poorly disguised concern, he could not prevent himself from divulging every thought he attempted to otherwise suppress. He was tired of thinking about Q, much less talking about the loss and if she was too close, he knew that he would allow himself to break down. If she could look clearly at his face, look into his eyes, she would know the exact emotional content of his head.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Sawyer. He obviously got the message loud and clear," referring to her pending nuptials to his brother.

_Deflecting. Nathan Scott, true to form, she thought. _

"He heard it years ago, the first time I graffitied this place. He just needed a reminder." She straddled the portion of the bench near him but maintained a comfortable distance. "But that isn't why I came here."

He nodded reflexively, not really accepting or rejecting her testament. "Why then?" he asked after a moment, his words falling flat.

"When I dropped Lucas off at the school, I saw Haley leaving Jamie and Skills sitting at one of the cement tables outside the building. Since you weren't with them, I figured that there was only one place you would come to be alone."

He glanced around the court, trying to avoid the blurred figure that had been standing under the basket every time he came to the court. The same figure that followed him home everyday, that existed, too, in the blank, longing stares of his son. "I could never be alone here."

"True," she replied with a nod, "This place is filled with our pasts, our memories. We pour our hearts out here when no one is looking but so everyone can see."

His only acknowledgement was sideways glance. The words had fulfilled his sincerest hope. If she could make perfect sense of this place, it's meaning, then she could do the same with personal loss. No one he knew had experienced the degree and depth of such pain the way Peyton had. What for, if not to console at times like these. No matter how selfish it sounded in his head, he knew he would take it if offered.

"I would ask how you are, but that seems like a really stupid question. So I will ask how Jamie is handling all this. It is a lot for a 5-year old to process."

He had no tangible answer to offer. He had spent the last several days wondering the same thing. He had held Jamie in his lap, trying to find the right words of comfort but, just as now, the perfect words failed him. "You probably understand what he is feeling better than anyone, having lost your mom when you were young. So you tell me, Peyton. How does a kid cope with that kind of loss? Did you understand it or was death of someone you love so much just this empty space where that person does not exist?"

She stared at the fading words painted on the pavement. All about love and the loss she felt when it had gone away. Of course, Lucas had not died suddenly or tragically but their time apart had only intensified her longing for those who had. For her mother, for Ellie. The degree of absence did not matter in light of the loss itself. Why then, it being so fresh in her mind, could she not give Nathan the solace he so rightly deserved. Why could she not give him the answers on how to remove the weight of loss from the small heart of his son. "I was too consumed with sadness to understand anything. Your son is more resilient than I was. Than I am now, really. And he has so many people who love him, who can help him through.

"Really," scoffed Nathan, not angry at her but at his own ignorance, "Because I don't think any of us can help him seeing as none of us really knows why these things happen." He sighed. "I just want to make it better for him. Make all the pain go away. I am his father. I should be able to protect him."

"You can't always do that. I know my dad couldn't, mostly because he was in the same boat as you are. It is hard to tell someone else not to be upset when you are. That is why I…"

"Started to draw," he finished, his voice vague and distant, like he was reading the words from a long forgotten memory. "It helped you combat the loss. Gave you a reason to push through."

She rested her chin on her shoulder, her expression cloaked in subtle astonishment. "You remember that?"

"We hadn't been dating long. Actually, it was the first time I saw your room, all the art on the walls. I said something mean because I was an ass. You told me not to make fun of it because it was important. That it saved you."

"I didn't think you were listening, much less that you cared. At least not about me." She gave him an inquisitive look. "All you were interested in was sex."

"And basketball," he added, almost chuckling when saying it. "You can't forget basketball."

"True. How could I forget that? It infuriated me then." The left of her mouth twitched, betraying her and twisting into a small grin.

"And now?" he questioned.

"I do not think it much matters what I think about it now."

"But it does, Peyton. Even though we live different lives, have seen much less of one another in the last few months than we should have, what you think still matters to me."

She inhaled deeply. No matter how often she experienced it, Nathan's sincerity always caught her off guard. "We all have something that saves us. For me it was drawing. For you, it is basketball and your family. That is why you fell so hard when the dream was crushed. And why losing Q is so hard. He brought you back to both. He helped you find your way back to basketball, which helped you find your family again."

"You helped me too, you know. After you took me to the pediatric ward and pretty much bitch slapped me with the idea that I had a chance, a part of me felt guilty for wasting it. I knew I wasn't only shorting myself but Jamie too. I could not take away his childhood just because I did not want to face my own future without basketball. That's something Dan would do. That is not the kind of father I want to be."

There was a silent moment before she smiled in response. "You give me far too much credit. You always had the power to save yourself, Nate. Knowing you do not want to be like Dan, that you loved Jamie more than yourself. Those things were always in you."

"Yeah. But it meant nothing without people who force me beyond the darkness. People like you." He fixed his eyes back on the basket. "Like Q did. He forced me to play again. Whenever we got on this court, all the self-pity and excuses were just bull."

"He loved it just like you did and he tapped into that to show you what about basketball you loved. He reminded you of why you could not quit the game all those years ago. He showed you that the feeling may slip away sometimes but it never disappears entirely."

"This place is full of reminders." He smiled slightly, scooting closer to her and hooking her shoulder under his arm.

"It seems that we all end up back here whenever we need one of those, doesn't it?" she replied as she hesitantly leaned into him and settled her hand on his back. Even though the sweat wiped against her neck, she did not mind. "Always a place to come back to," she said it out loud this time.

"Yeah, here," he nodded at the court, "And here," he squeezed her tight to him.

She smiled, intertwining her free hand with his, resting easily against her old friend. Though her intention had been to console him, she felt the great comfort of his closeness as she always had. Her hope was that he felt the same. That he could go back to and find in her what they both in the court. Peace.


End file.
